Malisounis on him licht, Of this royame braid; And doomit to the deid, Scho is perdie Ilede, Sua sorrowis spryng. Sith quhen the king heris Of this cace; Certes, baith me and myne Quhilk makis me dwyne Up stertit Gormalyn, Lyk ane suche of wynd, Fers and fellone, "Be him that bled on tre, This samen May schall I fre, Out syne he drawis his suerd; Quhat airt it mote fall, Quhilk fallow he schall, Qubyll he mote saif mell Wi the woulffis den. Waffland till the west, Joukand till the east, Was sumdele the suerd, Southlandis it whiles did beck, Quhyll in fine north its neck Bendand bot ane cheque Daddit on erd. * (Multa deerant) Furth prickit he throch the wud, Lyk ane black clud, In tide tempestive, Calland loud and hie, On the woulff ne to flee, He was belive. Alace in the woulffis mouth, Hir waist jimp and sma, Crushit was atwixt his jaw, And hir heid hong law, Sad thoch decore. Hir armis saft and lyte, Sweepit the grund. Quhyll hir goun in the wynd, Trailand wes behind, Alace! sicht of sic kynd, Niver was fund. Wae wes Schir Gormalyn, Syne neir he ne win, Albe he straive; Eftsune his horss coupit On feet he swyth ran Nicht and day. Thorow day he ay saw Hir sklendir waist in woulffis jaw, And thorow nicht a mane law, For mercie alwaie. "O for ane egillis wing! O for ane vyperis sting!" Quod Gormalyn. "O for ane lyounis pawe, That this woulf mote I drawe, And slay in fine. Mi hert ben sair ysmote, That it bene molten clene, O woulff let the Ladie fre, Ilk yere as manie moe, Scheip wi yong to throw Schall until ye eith goe, Bot hard wes the Woulfis hert, Of Schir Gormalyn gude, Schakand his salvage pow, Wi bludie eyne on low, Up muntanis he speelis, Doun braes he reelis, Wingis weren at his heelis, Deth in his gowl. Evir the mayd he schuke, Girnand and yamfand. With felloun champand. Mervailous it was to heir Amangis hillis and heuchis dreir, The maydis mane. It seemit waneirdlie sound, Suchand in aire around, Calculed to astound, Wi fricht and pain, Chewand his lippis wi yre, Shoutand persewit, Bot the Woulff unfoirfairn, Fleet lyk ane schot stern, Doun on the garss grene, Forfauchten foirgane, He list him mak mane, That the May awa was tane, Alace! nouthir Tristram, Nor bauld Schir Gawan, Launcelot du Lak, Nor anie perle of hardiment, Of Chivalrie culd schent, This woulff quha owre the bent, Schupeth his trak. "Rise up stalwarth schir," "Rise up run and rive, Lang as ye bene on live, This woulf, and reprive, Here is ane strang drinck, Richt blyth of chere, Gif it be al dronck, Thou schall be nevir sonck, In disperaunce donck, For ane hail yere. Airt quhairswaeir thow list, Thee to run Owir everilk holt hoar, Fers as the wud boar, Lustand annone to gore; Or lyk the sun, Rydand in blew skyis, Throw cluddis of purpour griss, Swift for to see," (Cætera desunt.) Very little more of the manuscript from which the above is transcribed can be at all legible. Several stanzas seem to relate to the ingredients which composed the sovereign beverage administered to Schir Gormalyn by his Squyer, who, we are elsewhere informed, is "cunnand and lerit in al erbis of erd." From ought that can be perceived, this cordial was of a much more invigorating and wholesome description than that which the lank-jawed knight of La Mancha swallowed after the rib roasting he received from the Yanguesian carriers; for the pursuit after this wolf is continued with fresh ardour, and as might be expected becomes of no ordinary length, being inter |